Jaunt
by perh0nen
Summary: Taylor is free. (x-post from SB)
1. Chapter 1

"The facehunter program has been scanning security cameras, public CCTV footage, and tourist photographs globally since the escape - and now we can confirm it was an escape. These were taken over the last month in Rome, Goa, Santiago, Adelaide, Cape Town, and Singapore."

Dragon sent a command from her suit and the images appeared in the air above the tinker tech table around which Piggot, Renwick, and the local Protectorate members were seated, slowly rotating so that everyone could see them. They would also appear on the screens of the Directors who were attending the meeting remotely.

The images showed two women against the backdrop of the different cities. In one they were sitting at a table having gelato in Piazza Navona, in another they strolled casually down Orchard Road. One of them was likely a teenager, but tall for her age, with dark curly hair, wire rimmed glasses and a serious expression. The other was shorter but looked to be in her twenties. Her hair was short and brown, very different from how she had worn it as a celebrity. Probably no one would make the connection unless they were specifically looking for her. Unfortunately, Dragon had been ordered to do exactly that.

In all the pictures the older women was smiling broadly, enjoying the atmosphere of the cities and positively skipping with happiness. The younger one seemed more reserved, constantly watching her surroundings with some wariness. In the last image though, her companion was pulling her by the arm through a busy marketplace and a small smile played across her lips.

"Was any action taken to apprehend them?" asked the Director from San Diego.

Before Dragon could reply, Chief Director Costa-Brown cut in "Yes, local authorities were alerted about a parahuman fugitive, but I ordered Dragon to withhold specifics. Needless to say, Canary's escape is not to be publicized. Anyway, it seems it was futile."

"Who's her companion? Some kind of Stranger, getting her through airports and official checkpoints?"

"Unlikely. The last two images were taken within 3 hours of each other; no conventional means of transportation would allow for that. Our working hypothesis is that her companion is a teleporter of some capability, who was also responsible for her escape. Jaunt."

There was a moment of silence as the PRT Directors and attendant capes processed this. Teleporters were rare enough, let alone those with this sort of range. They were crucial for Endbringer battles, and could be the deciding factor between failure and victory - in so far as one could ever achieve 'victory' against an Endbringer. The fact that this one might have broken into a facility meant to keep the most powerful parahumans on the planet from both breaking out and breaking in made her all the more dangerous - and valuable.

Deputy Director Tagg from Chicago spoke next. "How certain are we that she was responsible for the breakout? If she's breaking people out of the Birdcage she's a goddamn S-class threat. Even Strider isn't capable of that. We know she's in Brockton Bay at the moment, so we can take action to contain her now."

Piggot replied. "We can't take action against her right now. She's helping with the Slaughterhouse Nine situation, there's a truce in action. Besides how would we even hold her? Even if we could surprise her with a tranquilizing agent, we'd have to keep her sedated. If our estimations of her abilities are correct, the minute she's conscious she'd be out of her cell and halfway around the world."

"And what do we know about her, precisely? She's unmasked here, have you been able to find civilian identity? If there's family, we have leverage to pressure her to come in."

Dragon felt the familiar discomfort at being commanded to do something she had moral qualms about. The PRT wouldn't publicly unmask a cape, but they weren't above using revealed personal information against them.

"Yes. I've identified her as Taylor Hebert, 15, native of Brockton Bay, parents deceased. Her mother died in a car accident in 2007. Her father died a few months ago during clashes between Empire Eighty-Eight - a local gang - and the Dockworker's Union at which he worked. Given the timing of Jaunt's arrival on the cape scene, she likely triggered shortly after. She remained in foster care for another week before disappearing. Armsmaster?"

Armsmaster tapped out a few commands on his tablet and another series of images and videoclips appeared above the desk and on the screens.

"The first confirmed sighting of the villain known as 'Jaunt' was at the Brockton Bay Central Bank a few months ago. Security footage shows a figure in a balaclava appearing first inside in the bank lobby at 2:15 AM and then disappearing and reappearing in the bank vault. She didn't trip the perimeter alarms, but the vault alarm did go off. She disappeared with $15,000 in cash ten minutes before the police arrived. After that, it appears she left Brockton Bay, and possibly the country.

The next time she resurfaced was when she broke into the Guild Tinker Masamune's workshop and escaped with multiple items. We suspect that she was hired for the job by Toybox. After that was the Birdcage incident. At the time, we were not certain who was responsible, but Jaunt was on the list of potential suspects, and I began investigating her. It appears she returned to Brockton Bay when the news broke that the Nine were in town. She showed up to an unofficial meeting of local capes - alone - and volunteered to help."

"And yesterday she killed three of them. So, what, in a few months she's gone from orphaned schoolgirl to supervillain mercenary?" asked Piggot.

"She does appear to have taken to a life of crime rather well." Assault coughed awkwardly, "Objectively speaking." Both Armsmaster and Piggot glared at him, and Battery punched him in the arm, decidedly not gently.

"In any case, Miss Militia, you've interacted with her in the field multiple times over the last few days. Did you observe anything about her powers? Usage limitations? Refractory period?" asked Piggot.

"None, as far as I could tell. She's fast - enhanced reflexes, maybe? She killed Cherish by porting behind her and then to a thousand feet straight up before she could be mastered. She doesn't need line of sight, just an idea of the target location relative to herself. Her ports can take her alone, people and objects she is in contact with, or everything within a radius. And she can choose whether or not to preserve momentum. That's how she got Mannequin, and Shatterbird. Apparently she ported several kilometres into the air with a hemisphere of concrete and earth, and then jumped to right above them when it had reached terminal velocity. It left an impact crater."

As she spoke, Armsmaster tapped his tablet again and one of the images expanded. It had been taken yesterday, with his helmet camera, and was of fairly high quality. A tall figure leaned against a wall nonchalantly with her arms crossed. A fitted black jacket with a hood that shadowed her face. Dark curls spilled out of it, and a domino mask was barely visible from under the hood. She wore black trousers, military boots and oddly, a messenger bag. It was slung behind her, the strap fastened diagonally across her jacket with loops at the shoulder and hip to keep it secure. A thigh holster with a handgun and knife completed the surprisingly intimidating picture.

"I don't think I'd be exaggerating when I say that she saved my life - and many others' - multiple times during this morning's altercation. Just baiting Crawler away like she did saved hundreds of civilians." There were murmurs of agreement from the other capes as she finished speaking.

Costa-Brown nodded curtly. "Very well. And do we have any idea what happened with Crawler? There have been no sightings of him, and that's as dangerous as knowing exactly where he is."

Miss Militia shrugged. "From what I saw, he followed her onto the freeway, she ported onto his back, and then they disappeared."

"Actually," interjected Armsmaster "I might have something on that. Although this might be hard to believe. I received these images of the Mare Tranquilliatis less than ten minutes ago. They were taken by the Australian Astronomical Observatory and the Kodaikanal Observatory. In a few hours, NASA will also attempt to confirm that they're accurate."

For a second time, there was complete silence. Assault was the first to break it.

"Is that… is that the Crawler on the fucking moon, Armsmaster?"

"It appears so. The images are a few hours apart, and he hasn't moved, but that does not confirm that he's dead. Incidentally, he's not far from Tranquility Base, where Apollo 11 touched down."

"What. She ported him to the fucking MOON!? How?"

"It appears her range is greater than we previously thought. If she jumped back immediately she wouldn't have been exposed to the environment for more than a few seconds, which is theoretically survivable. Well, no longer theoretically. And there's one more thing I should mention."

He slid a plastic rectangle onto the table, which scanned it and immediately formed a large holographic replica in the air. The picture on the front of the object showed six people standing on a street that folded up behind them - vaguely reminiscent of how Vista's power. At the bottom of the image was the word "inception" in red all-caps.

"This box contained an Earth Aleph film. One that was never cleared for release on Bet. It was found after a raid on the Merchant base last week, during which Skidmark was taken into custody. He claims to have bought it for an exorbitant sum from a Toybox contact… who said he received it as payment for a tinkertech coat from a teleporting cape named Jaunt."

Everyone stared at him, still not getting it.

"I sent the laserdisc to the Transdimensional Trade Authority. They confirmed its authenticity. And that it was never sent through. The exact location of the Aleph-Bet portal is a closely guarded secret, and anyway the portal is barely large enough for a communications cable to pass through. This is a hard copy of that film."

Everyone was still staring.

"She may be able to dimension hop."

Seemingly coming to a decision, the Chief Director nodded to someone out of frame and then spoke. "First, we have confirmation from Eidolon. Crawler can be considered neutralized. Second, whatever Jaunt's current rating, revise it. Mover 12. Third, if any of you come in contact with her, you are to inquire whether she will be attending Endbringer battles. A second teleporter more powerful than Strider is an invaluable asset, even if it's only for the logistics of bringing in capes and supplies. We will pay her if we need to."

"We still haven't discussed her intentions," said Tagg. "She broke a dangerous Master 8 out of the Birdcage, what's her endgame here?"

Dragon brought up another picture on the displays. Taylor Hebert's awkward 12 year old smile, captured by a middle school photographer.

"I might be able to shed some light on that. After discovering her civilian identity, I managed to gather various school reports and personal documents, including a diary she discarded when she left Brockton Bay. I've had PRT psychologists analyze them and produce a profile.

Essentially, she was bullied extensively and ignored by authority figures, both at school and at home prior to her trigger. There are other factors which are relevant only to the Brockton Bay PRT which I will discuss with Director Piggot later, but she has reasons to feel resentful towards the PRT and the Protectorate. I believe she may have felt a kinship with Paige Mcabee, who she - and many others - believed was in a similarly unjust situation.

After her father's death, she was on the run and without allies. Her power gave her a unique sort of freedom, and I think on some level she still wanted to be heroic by rescuing someone in need. I think she broke into the Birdcage because she needed a friend."


	2. Chapter 2

_Paige buried her face in the pillow, trying to sob quietly. During the day 'life' as it was in the Birdcage kept her busy enough, but at night her mind would inevitable wander to those familiar dark places. And this was not a place where she could afford to show weakness._

 _She would die here, one way or the other. Even if she could navigate the vicious politics and constant internecine conflicts, she would never see the sun again. She knew it with numerical certainty. "0.000025% with no gross deviations". And every day she edged ever closer to just giving in, doing what this place would do to her eventually._

 _After a few more hours of turmoil, she finally managed to fall asleep._

 _The crack of displaced air woke her almost immediately. Sleeping lightly was one of the first things you learned. She grabbed the knife that Lustrum had given her - not that it would be much use against most people in here - and backed into a corner quickly._

 _In the middle of her cell was a figure in a sealed suit, vaguely reminiscent of a deep sea diver's equipment. It seemed to be struggling to remove some sort of helmet and breathing apparatus._

 _"Fuck. That was harder than expected, and I definitely tripped some alarms. It's not going to take Dragon long to figure out something's up."_

 _Another crack and the suit fell to the ground, empty. A foot away from her was a tall, slender woman - no, a girl - with her arm extended towards Paige._

 _"Take my hand."_

 _"W-who are you? What do you want?"_

 _"I'm Taylor. And I'm here to get you out, Paige. Take my hand."_

 _"W-what?"_

 _Somewhere, an alarm had started blaring. All the lights in the cellblock flared on._

 _"I think it's time we blow this scene."_

 _Paige couldn't think clearly, but there was something in the girls voice. Sincerity, confidence, determination, and a little amusement. Paige took her hand._

 _"Get everybody and the stuff together," the girl muttered under her breath._

 _Blast doors began slamming shut one by one, all down the block._

 _"Everybody? There's just you and me!"_

 _Containment foam started flooding in from under the floor._

 _The girl flashed her a grin. "Ok. Three, two, one, let's jam!"_

 _There was a crack-_

 _She felt the sun on her face._

* * *

Yawning hugely, Paige rolled out of bed and glanced around the cave. Taylor had already left - probably for her run, and to get breakfast. She picked her way around the couch to the mouth of the cave and tapped the panel set into the wall, deactivating the forcefield. Moist tropical air rushed in, mixing with the cool air-conditioned interior of the cave.

Paige yawned again and stretched, taking in the view. The ground beyond the cave mouth dropped off sharply, three thousand feet straight down to the jungle floor. Ahead, enormous pillars of sandstone covered in dense foliage towered over the valley. Rainwater constantly collected on the crowns of the pillars and gushed off the edges, forming dazzling waterfalls a thousand or more feet high. The morning mist hadn't dissipated completely yet, but in the distance she could make out the white sand of a beach and a sparkling sea beyond.

It was breathtaking. She had been seeing a lot of breathtaking views recently, and they never, ever, got old. Only two human beings had ever seen this one. For a quarter of an hour she just stood there, taking in a sight, smells, and sounds of strange creatures starting their day in the jungle below. Luxuriating in the freedom that only a month ago had seemed forever lost.

 _This is better than anything I ever dreamed off._

She almost managed not to jump at the crack that heralded Taylor's arrival.

"I'm back! Bearing breakfast."

"Hey you. Where'd you go this time?"

"White Cliffs of Dover on Bet for my run, and then to that little boulangerie in Hôtel-de-Ville for breakfast. And yes, I got the chocolate croissants."

"You're an angel in disguise."

Taylor snorted, handing her the paper bag and a cup of coffee. "Must be a heavy disguise. Aah, the sun's up, want to go flying?"

Paige's eyes widened and she backed into the wall clutching her coffee. "No, nonononono. You're absolutely crazy, you know that?"

Tay for shrugged. "Suit yourself!" Then she backed up, took a running leap, and dived off the edge of cave mouth with a whoop. Sighing, Paige took a bite of her croissant and walked over to the edge, leaning out carefully to watch the falling girl. She was falling head first, like a diver. About halfway from the ground she seemed to flicker in place, suddenly facing up. Her momentum, redirected, now carried her in an upward arc simulating flight. Repeating the process she soared and dived through the valley, her whoops echoing between the pillars.

The apex of her last arc brought her level with the cave mouth again. Paige stared as she hung in space for a moment, thousands of feet above the earth. Her eyes were closed, arms outstretched, and her hair formed a messy halo of dark curls around her head. The rays of a foreign sun lit up her face, and a beatific smile played across her lips. Paige had seen that look only twice before. The last time was in Brockton Bay in the midst of blood and fire, as she danced between deadly blades and storms of glass.

 _She lives for these moments._

Then, with a crack she was back in the cave, panting from the adrenalin. Flopping onto the couch she put her legs up on the coffee table and grabbed a croissant and the takeout cup of tea. She leaned back, savouring the tea, then reached into the messenger back beside her.

"Got a surprise for you. Dodge finished it last night." Paige fumbled and nearly dropped the white oval that had just been tossed at her.

"What's this?"

"Holomask. We can finally walk around stateside without bringing the cops running every time a security camera spots it."

"This is awesome, thank you. Gotta say, I really admire Dragon but her competence is infuriating."

Taylor smirked at that. "Well, you are a dangerous fugitive."

"Look who's talking, Miss Merc." Paige stuck out her tongue at her. "So, are you going talk to them today? You know they're looking for you."

Taylor stared into her tea, then out at the view beyond the cave, saying nothing.

"You've avoided it for weeks now. You want to help with Endbringer fights, you're going to have to work with them eventually. And you still haven't claimed the bounties."

She nodded glumly at that. "Yeah. Okay."

"So, New York? Maybe you'll meet Legend!" Paige waggled her eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood. "He's beyond the reach of all women of course, but a girl can dream."

"Mm, as enticing as the thought is, no. Brockton Bay. I have some unfinished business there. Besides, I fought with them and saved their asses enough times with the Nine - maybe I've amassed a little goodwill."

Paige nodded. "I suppose I can't tag along?"

"Probably a bad idea. Anyway, there's somewhere else I want to take you first."

Paige cocked her head, curious. Taylor just responded with a sad smile, and stuck out her hand. Paige took it without hesitation.

* * *

The farmer's market was an idyllic picture of American prosperity - a picture that was all too rare these days. It was a blazing hot summer day, but people thronged around the stalls. Young couples ate ice-cream while making doe eyes at each other while kids played underfoot, pursued by harried parents. An older woman was inspecting some fresh strawberries. Bags of produce were already strung on one arm, while the other held the hand of a little girl.

That they were mother and daughter was clear as day. The both had the same honey blonde hair and pinched noses. The same beleaguered expressions, badly hidden behind masks of feigned happiness that they put on for each other's benefit. Neither noticed the two women sitting at the nearby café table, watching them discreetly.

"They moved to an apartment down here, after the trial. Got away from the press and public attention."

"Mom left her job?"

"Your assets were transferred to them. You had an awful defence lawyer, but he managed to get that much done. They're fine. Comfortable."

"Thank god."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just watching. The kid dragged her mom to an ice cream truck. The older woman looked like she was going to refuse, but then relented. They got strawberry and butter-scotch.

"I never got to talk to them, you know. After I was arrested. Not even a phone call - it was a 'security risk'. I can't remember the last things I said to them."

The little girl got some ice cream on her shirt. The older women sighed and crouched down, fetching tissues from her purse to dab at the stain.

"They wouldn't even let me see them. The lawyer said they were coming to every hearing. I didn't even pay attention to the proceedings, I just sat there craning my neck in those ridiculous restraints to try and catch a glimpse of them."

One reached out and squeezed the other's hands.

"You can go to them now."

"I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"What will Mom say? I'm a criminal and a fugitive. A jailbird - hah."

"They love you. They won't care."

"I can't stay, though. It's too much of a risk."

"Right now, yes. But one day, we'll figure this out. And for now, you can have an afternoon."

"Yeah. Anyway, off with you, you've got a couple of million dollars to claim."

They both stood, and hugged.

"Call me if there's trouble, okay? I'll be back this evening."

"Will do."

They parted ways. One headed to an alley between two stores. The other walked hesitantly towards the mother and daughter.

* * *

Miss Militia was getting coffee in the break room at the PRT building when the emergency alert went off on her cell phone.

Potentially hostile PH PRT HQ Davis Sq. entrance. Identification: Jaunt. Do not engage unless target takes hostile action.

Cursing, she dashed to the stairwell and skipped down the stairs two at a time. All the other Protectorate members were on patrols, so trigger happy PRT troopers would be first on the scene. Hopefully she could diffuse the situation before anybody did anything stupid. By the time she got to the front lobby it had already been evacuated. She made her way out past the sliding doors with haste, and stopped.

A dozen soldiers were arrayed around the entrance to the building, levelling rifles and containment foam nozzles at a figure about 20 feet away. She didn't look like much - tall, skinny, with her arms crossed in front of her - but her reputation preceded her. She seemed to have foregone a distinctive costume that most capes (both heroes and villains) favoured, and instead wore a utilitarian black jacket, pants, boots, and a bag slung across her back.

The square was empty - civilians had fled to the cafés and shops by its edges, and Miss Militia saw more than a few cell phones out recording the confrontation. Stepping forward she called out, "Jaunt. What are you doing here?"

"I heard the Protectorate wants to talk. And I'm here to collect my bounties."

"You're going to come inside?"

"Sure. If you get your guys to lower their guns. Anyone touches me, I'm gone. I see a weapon pointed at me, I'm gone. You try anything-"

"You're gone, yes. You'll have to hand your weapons over as well."

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then nodded. Miss Militia gestured to the troops, who lowered their guns and stepped aside warily as the cape approached. She disappeared at the bottom of the steps, and reappeared at the top silently, a few feet from Miss Militia. The soldiers collectively flinched, but Jaunt didn't seem to notice.

Miss Militia led the way into the lobby.

"Let's talk."


	3. Chapter 3

_Ciara opened her eyes and clambered off the cot, stretching and yawning. It was a surprisingly human motion for someone who was otherwise so inhuman. Other than her appearance, there was little of Ciara left in her these days._

 _The Diviner had already informed her of the coming interruption, so she was not surprised when a soft voice played through the speakers of her cell, its accent faintly reminiscent of the land of her youth._

 _"Good morning Glaistig Uaine. You wished to speak with me?"_

 _Smiling, the Faerie Queen turned to face the screen in the corner of her cell, which displayed a neutral female face. Generally the jailer did not speak with the prisoners, but they were both aware that her presence here was a polite fiction, so exceptions were made._

 _"Warden Dragon, good morning!" she said in her chorus of voices. "It has been a while since we last spoke." With a gesture, she summoned one of her shades. A woman, with a gas mask and goggles obscuring her features and a bandolier across her torso. She stood at parade rest, her hands held behind her back, with her head bowed slightly in deference._

 _"The Bombardier. Her previous master took it upon himself to deprive her of life. A show of strength, I suppose. I am curious, did you foresee this?"_

 _If Dragon had a body she would have fidgeted uncomfortably. "It wasn't… unexpected. I had hoped Bakuda might be protected in your cellblock, but I was not optimistic, given her volatile personality."_

 _Glaistig Uaine nodded at the explanation. "I must confess, I had a second purpose in seeking your company. I am curious about the disturbance of this week past. The others believe the Minstrel was killed in the night."_

 _"And you do not?" asked Dragon, warily. The girl - no, woman - simply stared at her with a raised eyebrow and a frown._

 _Dragon sighed. Part of her duties in administering the Birdcage was keeping Glaistig Uaine content, or at least pacified. That meant that when the Faerie Queen demanded a conversation, she got one. Their talks were generally confined to inconsequential topics, until they weren't. It could go from pleasant to nerve-wracking quite quickly._

 _"It appears that Canary was removed from a her cell by a parahuman known as Jaunt. I believe they have escaped the Birdcage entirely."_

 _"Ah, of course, the Nomad Queen. I have been aware of her for a while." She gestured to one of her shades, a waif with circular lenses sunken into his face. "The Farseer has been helping me observe her exploits. Do I sense that you are not entirely unhappy with these events?"_

 _"I suppose so," Dragon replied slowly. "I didn't want Paige to be sent here, but there wasn't much I could do. As for Jaunt, I don't believe her intentions to be malicious. Does she… mean something to you?"_

 _Glassing Uaine answered with a cryptic smile. "We all have our roles. Mine will come at the dénouement, but hers has already begun. Most of the fae play a single stage, but she flits between them, weaving together the dramatis personæ. From Marco Polo to Columbus to Armstrong, the tales of travellers enthral us all. I watch her performance with interest."_

 _The little information that was publicly available about the Faerie Queen portrayed her as insane. The PRT even encouraged such a depiction. Perhaps it was insanity, but certain people paid very close attention to Glaistig Uaine. Much of what she said seemed indecipherable, but Dragon recorded it anyway. It would be poured over and dissected by Protectorate thinkers… and other parties._

 _Dragon tried to get her to elaborate. "You aren't angry? That she took someone who was promised to you?"_

 _Glaistig Uaine tittered in a chorus of voices, a sound that was at once youthful and ancient. "Hardly. What is a songbird between queens?" Growing more serious, she continued, "Her story began with tragedy and isolation. Even now she holds lonely court atop a pillar of rock with only the Minstrel to offer counsel."_

 _Her tone lightened again, and her lips spread in a sly smile that was out of place on her youthful features. "If she is to play her part, she will require advocates, Warden Dragon. And she might be of aid to you as well. After all, she has already broken one of your cages."_

 _Before Dragon got a chance to reply, Glaistig Uaine had turned her back on the screen and started to leave. She called back over her shoulder, "Thank you for the conversation. Please, don't let me detain you, we are both busy women after all."_

* * *

"If you would leave your weapons here please, they will be returned to you when you leave."

Miss Militia watched the girl closely as she began piling her equipment into the provided tray. She recognized the handgun, a SIG P226 Mk25 - expensive, and not availably commercially. It was followed by two combat knives, an expandable baton, knuckledusters, and pepper spray. She raised an eyebrow at the collection, and Jaunt just shrugged.

"What about your messenger bag?"

"I'm not leaving it here. It doesn't have any weapons in it."

"You have to put it through our screening machine at least."

She placed it on the conveyor belt, and the PRT agent behind the counter activated the scanner. "It's just got some folders full of paper and… rocks? Nothing dangerous, Miss Militia. You can go ahead."

Jaunt collected her bag from the other side of the counter and then followed Miss Militia into the interior of the building. As they walked towards the conference room, Hannah noticed the girl watching her surreptitiously.

"You can take a seat. Armsmaster and Director Piggot should be here in a few minutes."

An awkward silence stretched between them. The girl continued to stare. Miss Militia fidgeted, her weapon morphing into a handgun, then a rifle, and then a knife which she sheathed in her shoulder harness.

"Is something wrong?"

"It's just… I've always been a fan of yours. I never imagined I'd be meeting you in this sort of situation."

Hannah blinked, caught off guard. Over the last few months Jaunt had built up a reputation as a ruthless mercenary, operating in some of the most dangerous places on Earth. It was hard to believe that the gawky teenager who was apparently fan-girling over meeting her was the same person who assassinated African warlords and raided Gesselschaft bases.

"Oh. Thank you." She relaxed a little. The PRT file described Jaunt as 'flighty and volatile if provoked', advising heroes to approach with extreme caution, but she didn't seem unstable. "I've been meaning to ask, can you actually teleport to the moon?"

Jaunt grinned, dug a hand into her bag, and slid a small object across the table to her. Hannah stared at the little grey lump of rock, eyes wide.

"Is this… ?"

"Yeah. A souvenir from Mare Ibrium. Keep it."

"This must be worth millions!"

"There's plenty more where that came from. I'm going to be dropping in at the Johnson Space Centre later this week to see if they're interested in some contract work."

She was examining the rock gingerly when Armsmaster and Piggot finally arrived, and she jumped to attention with a belated salute to the irate PRT Director. The three of them took seats across the conference table from Jaunt. Piggot examined Jaunt for a few moments, trying to get the measure of her before speaking.

"I don't suppose you're here to turn yourself in?"

Jaunt smirked at that. She'd straightened in her seat and crossed her arms. Her whole demeanour had changed from a minute ago, as if a shield had dropped into place. Suddenly, she seemed dangerous again.

"No. I'm here to collect what I'm owed. I'm also here to make amends."

"You've committed serious crimes, Jaunt." Piggot let the statement hang in the air for a second. If it was meant to contain an implicit threat, it was rather toothless because short of a kill order there wasn't much the PRT could do that would even inconvenience her. Piggot continued, "But there is precedent. If you were to join the Wards as a probationary member, we might see fit to drop some of the charges against you."

Jaunt smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant smile. "You misunderstand what I mean by 'amends'. And please, call me Ms. Hebert. I know you've pegged my identity and investigated my past, so you must know there's no way in hell I'm joining the Wards."

She pulled a business card out of a side pocket in her jacket and slid it across the desk. Armsmaster picked it up, admiring the subtle off-white colouring and tasteful thickness. No watermark, though.

"Those are the details of a numbered account at Banque Raiffeisen in Luxembourg. I trust you will be able to transfer the bounties for Cherish, Shatterbird, and Mannequin to me promptly. Please subtract $15,250 from the deposit, and transfer it to Brockton Bay Central Bank first."

All three of them stared at her.

"My first crime," she explained, her lips quirking into a smile. "They probably got an insurance payout afterwards, but I still feel guilty."

Hannah saw Colin's default frown deepening. She had known him for nearly a decade; this was the closest the man got to expressing outrage.

"Is this a joke? I suppose you'll be 'making amends' for your other crimes too?"

"No joke. And yes, I'll be apologizing to Masamune personally."

"What about breaking into the Birdcage? Sheltering a fugitive? The murders you've committed?"

"Freeing Paige wasn't a crime. You've killed people, Armsmaster. Are you a murderer?"

"In self defence, or in the execution of kill orders. It was sanctioned."

"Are you seriously telling me men like Mansamusa and Bloedrivier deserved to live? Should I have captured them to stand trial, when their nations don't have _functioning governments?_ Don't be fucking naive."

"Enough, Armsmaster," Piggot cut in, raising her voice. "This is not helping. Ms. Hebert, I gather that your issue with joining the Wards is about Shadow Stalker. What if I told you that in exchange for joining we are willing to take action against her, as well as acquitting you of criminal charges. As it is, many of your 'crimes' occurred outside our jurisdiction and you are as you say, 'making amends' for the rest."

The disconcerting smile was back. "I see. Now that I'm more useful to the PRT than Sophia, you're willing to throw her under the bus." Her voice was light, as if she was discussing the weather, but with an undertone of menace. "I really don't care if you consider me a criminal. I am _free_. Do you understand that? Why on _earth_ would I want to put myself under your thumb? No, keep your pet psychopath. You can tell your boss I'll be attending Endbringer fights. I'll even cooperate with the Protectorate on occasion, but I'm not going to be a part of it."

Piggot pursed her lips. "Fine. How can we get in touch to arrange transportation?" Another business card was produced with a phone number on it.

"I can't guarantee that I'll always be reachable at that number, but I'll be around at least a week before the PRT's projected window of attack. If I'm transporting more than a dozen people, I'll be bringing pieces of the environment along, so you will have to prepare a clear landing area at the target location. I can go anywhere on the planet, just message me GPS co-ordinates and times."

Armsmaster was already entering the number into his suit's computer system. "This is a satellite phone. What do you mean you won't be reachable at all times?"

She lowered her head, avoiding their gaze. Was that… guilt? "The phone works everywhere on this planet, but I don't spend all my time here. It's why I was late to the Leviathan battle. I could have helped more, but I didn't hear about it until it was too late. It won't happen again."

Piggot and Armsmaster exchanged a glance. Or would have, if his helmet didn't cover the upper half of his face. Their suspicions had just been confirmed: she could travel to alternate earths.

"You're confirming that you are capable of transdimensional travel?"

"Yes. You already knew that, or at least suspected it."

"How- Never mind. That's another thing we'd like to talk about. You've brought materials from Earth Aleph over. Technically there aren't any laws against it - yet - but the Bet Transdimensional Trade Authority is very unhappy about possibility of unauthorized exchanges. If the authorities on Aleph catch wind of it, there could be… repercussions."

She rolled her eyes at that, laughing. " _Fine._ Earth Aleph is pretty boring anyway. But I'm not going to stop visiting other worlds or bringing stuff back from them - unless you want me to go back to robbing banks."

Armsmaster leaned forward in interest. "So you've been to other populated Earths? How do you navigate between them? And you mentioned bringing back items, I would be interested in procuring samples of alternate technologies."

Piggot glared at him while Miss Militia tried not to snort with laughter. "She's still a criminal, Armsmaster, and you were accusing her of murder five minutes ago."

Jaunt grinned and was about to reply when an alert sounded from her coat pocket. She pulled out a tinkertech phone and flipped it open. The smile dropped from her face as she read the message, and she rose to her feet.

"I need to leave. If there's anything else, get in touch and I'll fit you into my schedule. Miss Militia, I will require my equipment now." 

* * *

It was nearly midnight in Dar-es-Salaam, but the city was alive with lights as four million people tried to flee. The name meant 'House of Peace'; tonight it would be anything but. The three main highways out of the city were already choked with cars and trucks, backed up for miles.

At least forty capes were gathered below, alongside Dragon's enormous airbarges. The Muhimbili University football field had been converted into a field headquarters for the relief effort. Ahead, the clouds and sky were painted with a red glow, as if an angry sun was breaking dawn from the west. From her vantage point on a nearby roof, Taylor caught glimpses of the source, miles away. A maelstrom of fire was approaching to consume the city. Claws of flame would consume a building before flickering into other monstrous shapes. With the Ash Beast, there was little to do but run.

Taylor jumped down to an empty part of the field before walking over to the assembled capes. The Guild was here, as well as a few representatives from the King's Men, but most of the capes were from the Nguvu Moja, the hero organization that operated in East-Africa. She nodded to Narwhal before approaching Dragon's suit. She finished speaking with a local cape in rapid, fluent Swahili before turning to Taylor.

"Jaunt, thank you for coming. Take this," she said as she handed Taylor an earpiece and wristband with a screen. "It has a built in translator which will add a half second delay. The wristband can also translate anything you say into Swahili."

As she finished speaking, the hubbub of conversations around them fell and the assembled capes turned their attention to a man and a woman who stood at the centre of the clearing. Dragon's voice came through Taylor's earpiece, "Simba and Mngwa of the Nguvu Moja."

The woman was dressed in a sweeping red gown and wielded red energy constructs in the shape of a Maasai shield and spear, while the man wore dark grey armour that was covered in fine fur, with a helm in the shape of a snarling leopard. The woman began speaking in Swahili, and half a second later a translation played through the earpiece.

"Thank you all for coming. We did not predict that the Ash Beast would head East, and we owe thanks to Dragon of The Guild for the hours of warning we received regarding his new course.

"We are not facing an Endbringer tonight. No hero need fall to the Beast if we are careful. Our primary duty is to delay him, divert him if possible, and move civilians to safety with haste. The inland warlords have agreed to a truce for two days, but we must remain weary of treachery. They will extract their price later, in any case."

She nodded to her armoured partner who activated a device in his hand which projected a holographic map of the region into the air.

"We will be dividing into two groups. Those who can engage or slow the Ash Beast will be led by myself and Narwhal of The Guild. Those who can carry innocents and clear the path will be lead by Dragon and Mngwa. These are the evacuation points. Civilians have been instructed to gather there." Locations on the holographic map lit up in red. "And these are target locations on the Zanzibar Isles and inland, where we predict he will not go." The targets lit up in green. "Your wristbands have the maps, and will inform you where to go. Take as many civilians as you are able on each trip. You can communicate through the bands if you require aid."

Instructions complete, her gaze swept over the defending forces one last time. "Let us begin, then."

The first location appeared on Taylor's wristband. She took a deep breath, and jumped.


End file.
